OOC
by Yao Kafei
Summary: Jack, Will, and Elizabeth try to cope with one of the most common problems in fan fiction...
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Not only do I not own any rights to the film, I also own no rights to the theme park ride or, indeed, really bad eggs. I have little money and I'm certainly not making pieces of eight off this story. If you choose to sue a nearly penniless college student, it'd be cool if you'd get the prosecution to wear Mickey Mouse costumes and do the high-pitched voice. You know, for the novelty of it. 

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**Chapter 1**

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William Turner was morose, sitting at the table, gripping a mug of rum. The Faithful Bride was drenched in firelight's amber glow. A well-rounded doxy, literally and figuratively, bumped into Will's shoulder. He glared but she was off to arouse the interest of a grave looking sailor with yellowing teeth and a tattered eye patch. 

"Come now Will, why the sad face?" Jack Sparrow asked , grabbing the bottom of a passing strumpet. She playfully smacked his hand away, winking. 

Will looked like a puppy that'd just been kicked. "Elizabeth left me," he told Jack. 

Sparrow stared at him in disbelief. Then he tilted his head upwards, drunkenly, deep in thought. Deep, exaggerated thought. His lips twitched and his eyes squinted then opened. Jack's head lolled from side to side. 

After several minutes, he turned to Will. Expecting a revelation, Will waited eagerly. 

"You say Elizabeth left you?" 

The young blacksmith's face fell. Exasperated, he replied, "Yes, that is what I said. Left me for another man." 

"Who, Norrington?" he asked. Will shook his head. 

Sparrow nodded approvingly. "Makes sense, that. She's known the Commodore since she was a chou… a chi…" 

"A child?" Will suggested, growing annoyed with his pirate friend. 

"Yeah, onna them. So all this time she's been trying to avoid his advances, she's been secretly in luv, savvy? 'S why she risked her life to save him from cursed undead pirates," he said, pleased with himself. 

"That was me," Will growled. 

Jack's lips pursed together and he bobbed. Will assumed it was a nod. "S'Right. Got it jumbled for a minute. Ah well, that's ladies for you. Always changing their minds," Jack told him, raising his glass. 

Will considered Jack's idea. "Elizabeth has always been self-assured. Very confident," he replied. 

"Not a lass to muck around with other men or-" Jack began. He continued, deepening his voice for dramatic effect, "shift in her affections, eh?" 

"No, not really," Will replied. 

"So it's like last week, then? When Elizabeth died and you came running here for comfort?" asked Jack. A young sailor, eavesdropping, snorted at how casually Jack made the remark. 

The mood of the room altered without warning. 

Will and Jack seemed to fall into each other's eyes. Imaginary violins began to play in the background. The clanks and clamor of the Faithful Bride hushed around the two men, leaning towards each other, ever so slowly, across the battered wooden table. 

Will spoke first: "I've always been drawn to you. It killed me inside when I thought you betrayed me…" He bit his lip, eyes beginning to tear. 

All the women in the Faithful Bride sighed. 

Jack started to speak, loving words poised on his lips… 

The mood snapped, like a string pulled too taut. Jack planted his feet firmly on the ground and pushed his chair back. It screeched against the wooden floorboards as it slid backwards. "For the love of…" the captain snarled, grabbing his rum and guzzling it down. 

The patrons of the Faithful Bride carried on as if nothing had happened. It had returned to its raucous self. 

Will rested his head on his hands and whimpered, "Not _again_!" 

"Oh yes, this must be so hard for you two!" 

Will and Jack both turned to see the figure that stood at the end of their table. 

It was a very angry Elizabeth Swann. Wherever she'd been, she'd come straight to the Faithful Bride without delay. If she _had_ stopped, she'd have taken the time to change clothing. Not many would wander the streets of Tortuga in fine lace and embroidered silks. It was equivalent to wearing a large sign reading: "Please rob me at your earliest convenience." 

At a table to the left sat a dangerous looking fellow: covered in tattoos, scars, slumped over and dead to the world. He'd drunk himself to oblivion long before they'd arrived. Elizabeth put both hands on the bulky man's shoulder and pushed. He tumbled to the ground with a thud. In the general chaos of the Bride, no one seemed to notice. If they did, they certainly didn't care enough to do anything. 

The man snorted but didn't wake up. 

She dragged the chair over next to Will and sat down. While Will decided what to say, Jack jovially commented, "I hear you've run off with the good Commodore. Be getting an invitation to the wedding, will I?" 

Elizabeth glared at him. "This is all your fault," she told him. 

"How the bloody hell is it my fault?" an indignant Jack responded. 

"It's you and Will! Every time things settle down, we all start acting odd and you two try to run off together! I _died_ last time. Do you have _any_ idea how unpleasant that was?" she demanded. The eavesdropping sailor choked on his ale. 

Captain Sparrow swayed, rising from his seat. "More rum!" he shouted, raising his pint in the air and waving it around. Looking back at his two companions he asked, "More rum?" They stared at him. Jack swaggered away to find a barmaid and, hopefully, much more rum. 

Will placed his hands over Elizabeth's. "It's all right," he crooned, trying to calm her. An angry Elizabeth was to be avoided at all costs. She glared but it wasn't very fierce. Will smiled. 

She sighed. "I suddenly pop off in the middle of the night. The next thing I know, father is standing over me, weeping about 'the path she had chosen'. I was in a bloody coffin! I sat up, the maid fainted, and father shrieked like a little girl. All the time, you were on the Black Pearl, seeking… comfort… from Captain Jack Sparrow," she said. 

Will gently stroked her hand. "Elizabeth, you know I've loved you for years. I tried to be the best blacksmith, the best swordsman… the best anything I could be, so I'd be worthy of you," he told her. At the spark of righteous indignation in her eyes, he added, "Even though you felt I was worthy but simply failed to show a definite interest." 

"It's hard to remember that when you're running off to be with Captain Jack _bloody_ Sparrow every other week," she groused. 

"Do you think it's easy for me to see you gallivanting off with a new man?" Will asked. "I'm surprised it took this long for it to be Norrington. The Commodore must have been quite put out with the delay," he joked. Miss Swann gave a short, sarcastic laugh, giving way to a tiny smile when she saw Will's pleading expression. 

Jack returned with three bottles of rum. Elizabeth and Will looked at Jack, then the bottles, then Jack again. "I think we'll need it," he explained. 

Will turned back to Elizabeth and said, "You know the lengths I'm willing to go for you. I hate what is happening just as much as you do and don't know why it is." 

They didn't speak for a moment, letting the boisterous noise of the tavern wash over them. "Well… you are both attractive," Elizabeth spoke up. 

"What? You mean that some force beyond our control is making us act unlike ourselves," said Will. 

"Or killing us," added Elizabeth. 

"Because they think two gentlemen as us should be engaged in carnal pleasures?" finished Jack. They nervously laughed. Jack leaned forwards towards his two companions and conspiratorially whispered, "Might not be so bad if it weren't for the sap, the change in demeanor, and that being turned off the fairer sex." Will choked, Elizabeth rolled her eyes and Jack grinned like a madman. "Time for a drink, I feel!" Jack said. He gave a rather wild and undignified approximation of a salute and grabbed one of the bottles. That's when he saw her. 

In the doorway, she was half in moonlight, half in firelight. Where the moon glinted off her hair, it was spun silver yet the fire had the rest looking golden. Her sapphire eyes reflected the mandatory fiery spirit, as she searched the room. What a beauty like that was doing in a place like this was anyone's guess. Aside from Miss Swann, the ladies of the Faithful Bride were ladies of the rather late evening. That was a lucky thing, too. Business would suffer if their clients could see them in the clear light of day. 

The young lady walked over to their table. "Are you Captain Jack Sparrow," she asked, hopefully. 

Unfortunately, she asked Will Turner. He pointed to a glowering Jack. 

"I'm Opalescent Pearl," she told him. Jack Sparrow tried to conceal a snicker. 

"Well, that's a… pretty name," Elizabeth said. 

She smiled at Elizabeth. "It _is _exotic, isn't it?" 

"It certainly is unusual," Will replied, trying to be supportive. She daintily nodded. 

She leaned forward and confided, "I'd thought of changing it to Cubic Zirconium but decided against it." 

"Why'd you want to see me?" Jack interjected. 

She squared her shoulders and took a deep breath. "I'd like to sail with you on the Black Pearl," she told him. The sense that she was a battered soul, victim of a cruel world, struggling to find peace was nearly tangible. Jack stared blankly at her. "Your ship, the Black Pearl?" 

Jack raised a finger to his lips, then lowered it and looked up at her. Then he lowered his head and raised his finger again. Then looked up again. This went on for half a minute, until Will removed Jack's empty bottle and pushed his own over to the pirate. Jack nodded and took a swig from the bottle. 

Will explained to Opalescent, "He's not been himself today." Looking at his friend, he added, "Actually, that may have been himself. It comes and goes." 

Finally, Captain Sparrow said, "I know what the Black Pearl is, girl. What I don't know is why you feel you should be sailing on her." He pursed his lips and stared expectantly at her. She pouted, every inch the tragic heroine. 

"I'm escaping a painful and lamentable past," she told him, her eyes tearing up. Jack felt himself being pulled into those eyes, suddenly unable to quench a swell of pity for the girl. He stood, with none of his usual swagger, and tenderly held her hand. 

The imaginary violins started up again. 

"You poor flower. How could I leave a beauty like you behind? I'll not let anything harm you, lady," he told her, without any of his usual cockiness. His accent seemed to be getting more upper class with every syllable. 

Terror was etched across Elizabeth and Will's countenances. It was happening again. 

"Captain Sparrow, are you sure you're feeling all right?" asked Elizabeth. 

"Of course, Miss Swann," he replied. "You know I could never leave a poor, helpless creature in need." His accent was as polished as Norrington's. 

Will tried to help: "We never meant you would. It's just you don't go about it… what I mean to say is you sound…" His brow furrowed and he bit his lip. Nothing was getting through the vapid smile of his friend. 

"You're Captain Jack Sparrow!" Elizabeth screeched. 

It did the trick, as Sparrow swayed backwards, recoiling from his near-embrace of Miss Opalescent. "I'll tell you what," he said to the girl, gesturing to the door. "Go down the road to the building with the large porch on the second floor and ask for Sally. She's always good to get someone out of a jam," he told her, accent back to normal. Her shoulders drooped and she walked away from the table. 

Imaginary violinists stopped playing, muttering about overtime and low pay. 

Will clapped his hands together and said, "So I guess that's still happening, too." Jack nodded and drank more rum. Elizabeth was perplexed. 

"He's had this reaction to women before?" she asked. They both stared at the governor's daughter. "Not acting like himself," added Elizabeth. 

Will nodded. "Nice young lady came in earlier – wanted to be a member of Jack's crew. She's right over…" he told her. 

"Don't look!" hissed Jack. "It was hard enough to get her to leave the first time!" Will tried to discretely peek over his shoulder to the table in question. There was a young woman, dressed in much the same as other sailors, trimmed and hemmed to fit her petite frame. Her hair was a wild mass of curls, gleaming in the dim light. She was drinking a foggy brown liquid. Will wasn't sure what, but then, he wasn't entirely sure they were drinking rum. In places like this it was best to believe and try not to dwell on the question. Ignorance invariably led to a happier stay. 

The girl felt someone staring at her and turned to see whom, hoping it was her Captain Sparrow. Will turned away before she could spot him. She sniffled and went back to nursing her drink. 

"Captain Sparrow!" a female voice screamed over the din of the tavern.

Jack groaned, recognizing the voice's owner. 

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AN: This was actually the first fanfic I've written in a long time. "Bad Luck" just took less time to edit, hence the earlier posting. 

_ETA_ - I updated this part, adding the summary at the beginning, then updated it again, changing the main summary and taking out the one in this part - hopefully the amended summary will clear up the confusion anyone had (sorry Sssnake!). Or, maybe it'll confuse more people. Either way, I need coffee. ;) 


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Still don't own the rights to the movie. Damn shame, too. Have you seen the current box office reports? Wow...

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**Chapter 2**

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_"Captain Sparrow!" a female voice screamed over the din of the tavern._

_Jack groaned, recognizing the voice's owner. _

It was a noble woman, decked in a gown more expensive than even Elizabeth's. Elizabeth winced at how tightly the woman's corset was pulled. Considering she'd been robbed of her purse, hair comb, ring, necklace and left glove, she was remarkably poised. A saber was clutched in her hand and bright emerald eyes glowed with fury. Also, with the mandatory fiery spirit. 

Several imaginary violinists started cursing, picking up their instruments. 

She moved toward Sparrow, not lowering her blade. 

"Captain Sparrow, I will avenge my honor!" she cried, thrusting the blade towards Jack. He leaped out of the way and turned around with his hands raised. 

"Listen, I understand you might be… unhappy… with my actions earlier but I can assure you-" started Jack. She lunged again, Sparrow narrowly escaping the sting of the sharp blade. 

"You locked me in the hold of your ship!" she cried, swinging the blade around with a surprising amount of skill. 

"I did no such thing!" protested Jack. He ducked her blade again. "It was the bilge," he added. He somersaulted backwards, putting more distance between the two of them. "I wasn't me this morning!" 

Elizabeth cleared her throat, gaining Will's attention. "Do you know anything about her?" she asked. 

Will squinted. "I think she's called Cockcrow," he told her. Seeing the look on Elizabeth's face, he added, "It means 'dawn'." 

"Who names these people?" Elizabeth muttered. 

Will gestured at the lady. "I think she's the daughter of a lord or official. Jack kidnapped her this morning – something about her being treasure. I only met her while she was slung over his shoulder. I'd assumed she'd gotten away or he'd let her go, since he didn't mention her again," Will told Elizabeth. 

The decidedly one-sided fight had changed during their conversation. 

Imaginary violins played a rousing overture. 

Jack now had his sword drawn, countering her moves. He was predatory, stalking her. 

"You're spoils to be taken, girl," he told her, his voice lilting dangerously. He parried her thrust. 

The tattooed and scarred sailor, knocked down by Elizabeth, proved an obstacle. Cockcrow tripped over him, falling into Jack's open arms. Jack clasped her to his chest, admiring her heaving and well-endowed bosom. "As I said, you're mine, savvy?" he whispered. 

They stared at each other, lips moving closer together, eyes drooping closed… 

"Hold on, you hussy!" 

It was the sailor girl from the far table. "You can't have Captain Sparrow! He needs to let me join his crew for fate has thrown us together, so I may soothe his weathered heart. He needs a kindred spirit with a love of the waves in order to free him from his bitterness towards tender feelings and save him from being a cold shell of a man," she declared. 

The violins stopped, though not all at once. A voice that wasn't really there said, "Do we have to keep this up?"

Another answered, "Buggerit, I'm getting meself a drink."

"I've never thought of Jack as particularly cold or bitter," said Will to himself. 

Elizabeth replied, "Well, he did carry around a pistol with one shot in it for ten years." 

"Yes, but he _is_ slightly mad. Angry, perhaps. Driven, absolutely. But a shell of a man?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. Elizabeth shrugged. 

Cockcrow extricated herself from the embrace and turned to the interloper. "Just who do you think you are, interrupting our love that crosses class borders to a place where we stand as equals in a fiery, passionate affair?" asked Cockcrow. "Who else could tame his wild lust and his savage pirate heart?" 

"Savage? He's known for sacking a port without firing a single shot! His crew mutinied because they thought he was too softhearted," exclaimed Will, leaning back in his chair. Elizabeth nodded, moving her chair closer to Will's for a better view. He draped his arm across her shoulders, moving her snuggly against him. Elizabeth rested her head on his shoulder. 

"My name is Magpie, you harlot!" she bellowed to Cockcrow. 

Most of the patrons of the Faithful Bride were avidly watching the two young women. In the commotion, no one had noticed Opalescent Pearl reenter the tavern. She watched the argument, glaring at her competition. 

"I've helped save a lot of people who were being attacked today!" Magpie cried out, frantically trying to get the upper hand. 

Everyone went silent. Captain Sparrow made his way to Opalescent. "What happened?" he asked. 

"There was a ship, earlier today, that was just making way, and another ship was visible a ways off. It started firing," she told him. Then she puffed up her chest and looked very pleased with herself, adding, "I managed to yell up to those on board, telling them to stay on deck. Ships aim for the hull, after all, so staying on deck is fairly safe. With nautical knowledge like that, how can you deny me passage? I've proven my worth!" 

Every sailor in the room groaned. 

Jack Sparrow winced and leaned left, clasping his hands together, trying to figure out how to explain to Magpie. "See that's a nice thought, to be sure, but it fails to take into account a number of-" he tried. 

"Variables," suggested Will. 

"Yes, variables," Jack replied, pointing to Will and nodding. "If you don't mind me askin', where'd you learn that?" Jack asked. Magpie turned her head away, refusing to meet his eyes.

"It's common sense, isn't it?" she asked, sounding very unsure. 

A sailor near the back whispered to his friend, a bit too loud: "That means she made it up." Jack circled her with long strides, hands clenched in fists but with his arms waving loosely. 

As he came up to her, his hand unclenched, as if he were going to grab the side of her face. He leaned backwards, pulling his hand back to stroke his beard. "Not really," he told her. "Raking the broadsides will hit the hull but that don't mean there isn't a slaughter above decks." Jack looked at the other aged seamen around him, waving for support. There was a brief delay, before they caught on.

"Aye!" they yelled. Except for Mr. Cotton's parrot, who yelled, "What d'ya charge, sweetie?! _SQUAWK_!" 

Magpie's lower lip trembled. "Well, it's all stupid technical details, anyway!" she harrumphed. 

Elizabeth rolled her eyes, saying, "You're the one who made a fuss." 

"That's right, you ninny," said Opalescent, her hands on her hips. Cockcrow wondered who she was, but only for a moment. Something on the most basic level recognized one of her own kind. She sneered.

A snarl was all the warning she had as she was tackled by an angry Magpie. Not to be left out, Cockcrow entered the fray. 

The fight was on. 

Jack returned to the table and sat down, watching the fight with mild interest. "Maybe we should have let it pass," Elizabeth suggested, not very enthusiastically. 

Jack shrugged. "She's the one who drew all the attention to it. If she didn't want to look it up, she could have just been vague and sidestepped the issue," he replied. The three of them talked casually as chairs, bottles and occasionally people were thrown around them. 

The fight went on for another ten minutes, with the only casualties being the door to the tavern, a window, and several bottles of rum. Much to the dismay of Jack, his was among the shattered. The three young ladies had finally been thrown out when they all landed on the tattooed man, managing to wake him up with the combined weight. He'd grabbed them by the arms and tossed them all out. Half the people were happy to see the disturbance dealt with and the other half had been betting and so saddened by the stalemate. 

A rather nice looking girl with hair that, even wet, could never be described as "shiny" walked up to the table. Her eyes were a non-descript brown, and her assets weren't the most impressive in Tortuga, though far from the worst. She looked to be a woman in her late-twenties. The barmaid smiled as she put a pint down in front of Jack. "I saw the fighting going on and felt terrible about your loss," she said, gesturing to his broken bottle of rum. 

"Yes, terrible shame," Jack replied seriously. "I was just teaching young Will here how to make a cl… a cloaf high… a cleaf hatch…" he tried to explain. Will and Elizabeth glanced at each other, trying to figure out if it was the rum or the general madness of Captain Jack Sparrow. 

"A clove hitch?" the barmaid asked. Jack looked mildly impressed. He also looked rather sloshed but that was normal. 

"That's the one. How'd you-" Jack started. 

"I had me a husband, once. Right fine bloke… at night he fancied yellin' out commands like a proper captain," she told Sparrow, grinning. 

"What, while he was sleeping?" Will asked. The barmaid and Sparrow snickered. She leaned over the table to will, trying to hold back her laughter, and patted him on the hand. 

"Absolutely, while he was sleeping," she said, nodding seriously, still trying to reign in a stray giggle. Leaning back she added, "So now I know a gaff rig from a ground tackle, much good it'll do me." 

The owner of the tavern yelled from the kitchens, "Agnes!" 

Sighing, she looked over her shoulder. "That'd be me," she told them. She moved to whisper in Elizabeth's ear, "Be sure your lad knows which end is up before your first time, Miss." Elizabeth snickered but blushed slightly as well. 

"Well that was interesting," Jack said as she began to saunter away. Tried to saunter, at any rate. She was jolly, something that doesn't translate well into a saunter. Agnes would have been much better off attempting a swagger but she seemed to enjoy the attempt. Turning back to Will, he asked, "How come we don't get more like that, eh?" 

Agnes yelled from across the room, "'Cause I'm never written in and I'm a lousy… oh what's the word… aviator?" 

"Avatar," Elizabeth corrected. 

"Yeah, one of them thingies!" Agnes replied before entering the kitchens to speak to her employer. 

Elizabeth drummed her fingers on the table. "We have to find a way to solve this," she told them. "I'm tired of running off with complete gits or waking up in coffins." 

"And I'm tired of being filled with angst and trying to hump Jack," Will added. 

"And I'm tired of doing both those things and nearly sailing away with strumpets who've got an unhealthy wish to be storybook heroines," Jack finished. 

"You've woken up in a coffin?" Elizabeth asked in disbelief. Will was about to ask a different question but thought the better of it. The answer might be too disturbing. 

Jack grinned, his gold teeth glittering, and said, "No, but I'm already tired of the idea." Playing with his braided beard, he added, "Wouldn't it be a laugh you," he cocked his head towards Elizabeth, "did your turn as a shrew so that you," he cocked his head towards Will, "would get to run off with the lovesick chits round here?" 

Several tables over, an elderly sailor felt something jab his shin. He looked under the table. There was a young girl, furiously scribbling away on a writing pad, a sinister gleam in her eyes. He could only read the writing in the margins, though it didn't make sense. What did "Orli + Rabid Fan Girl 4 Eva!" mean?

One of the imaginary violinists walked over and clubbed her over the head with a very real bottle of rum. 

Back at the table, Will curtly asked, "How would that be funny?" 

"It'd leave me alone, mate," Jack grinned. 

He looked significantly less amused when a sword was pressed against his neck, the assailant standing behind him. Will's mouth dropped open, making a quiet 'eh' sound, while Elizabeth just stared. "Have we met?" Jack asked, trying to lean back, avoiding the sharp edge. As he spoke, it scraped against his throat.

"You'd be Captain Jack Sparrow?" said the woman behind him. Jack looked to his two companions for help, frantically gesturing upward with his eyes, to get them to tell him who the attacker was. The response was less than helpful: Will raised an eyebrow and Elizabeth's mouth twitched. Next, he tried mouthing 'Who is she?' and met with similar results.

Running out of patience, he yelled, "Who the bloody hell is she?!". The sword nicked his throat. Once he'd said it, Elizabeth and Will mouthed a silent "ooh" and apologetically smiled.

"She looks like a pirate," said Elizabeth.

Jack's eyes lit up: "Anne Bonney?"

Will glared at his captive friend. "She hasn't been born yet, so no."

"She's very... well, she dresses like Anamaria, only with more baubles and a bigger hat," Elizabeth told him.

"Those that know me call me Mackenzie," the pirate said.

Will whispered to Elizabeth, "And those that don't know me call me 'Hey, you!'"

Sparrow tried to laugh without slitting his throat. "What kind of a name is 'Mackenzie'? It's the late seventeenth century, mate! Getting a bit modern, aren't we?"

She released her hold on Sparrow, sheathing her sword, walking around the table so he could see her properly. "We're the same, you and I," she told Jack. "I'm the Captain of the Black Unimaginative Naming Convention. We're equals, who love the waters and understand the pressure of being Captain."

"Congratulations. I'm very happy for you, love," Jack told her, slurring as he leaned forward to grab the bottle.

Imagine a classically trained actress, on stage for the first time, playing the female lead in MacBeth. Now imagine the male lead comes onstage and starts adlibbing jokes about bums and bodily functions. The expression on that actresses face would be very much like the one on Mackenzie's.

"We're supposed to be the perfect fit for one another! You're supposed to be in awe, damn it!" yelled Mackenzie.

Violins began to play.

"Don't you bloody well start! I'll clobber the lot of you!" bellowed Jack, looking skyward. The violins stopped playing. "All right, then," Jack said, nodding. Turning to Mackenzie, he asked, "Why would I be in awe of a female-type version of meself?"

"You're wild about yourself. It should carry over," she argued.

"Nah, that's narcissism. I can't be narcissistic about someone that isn't me - it'd break the rules. Wouldn't be proper narcissism," he replied.

"But-" she said.

"Nope," he replied.

"Still-" she added.

"Against the rules," he told her.

"No chance, then, of you falling madly in love with your female counterpart?" she asked. 

Jack shrugged, shaking his head. "Sorry, not right now. Besides, aside from your constant assertion that you're me counterpart, I haven't been seeing much that makes you look it. It's like you keep saying it in hopes that it'll make it real." 

A burly sailor bumped the back of Jack's chair as he walked past. Checking to see who he'd knocked, and if he'd need to kill someone, he peered around to see Jack. "Hey, Captain Sparrow! Looks like all those little ladies swarming over you from before left you all alone. They were beauties, too. If I'd been you, I'd have followed them down towards Sally's, where they was heading," he told Jack.

Anger lit Mackenzie's eyes. "What? I have competition?! I'll show those mangy dogs who deserves Captain Jack Sparrow!" With that, she ran out of the Faithful Bride, racing after Opalescent, Magpie, and Cockcrow.

"This has to stop," said Will. 

Jack leaned closer to the two of them and whispered, "I have an idea... We can't not be ourselves if we already aren't ourselves, savvy?" 

Elizabeth Swann and William Turner eagerly listened to Captain Jack Sparrow's plan. 

-^-^-^-^-^- 

AN: The imaginary violins didn't end up being as good a running gag as I'd hoped but I didn't have the heart to take them out. There is one part left to this story: the epilogue. Suffer the self insertions...

Oh, for the record, the best place to be in a naval battle is somewhere _far, far away from it_. Ever notice how it's maritime stories where you _regularly_ get the characters with peg legs and other missing body parts? :P 

Now I'm gonna be really nice, and offer a fun writer's aid. Here is a site that lists names that are _new and modern_ that would not have existed in the PotC time period. **Don't use them!!! **And yes, if you've read more than five pieces of PotC fic you'll be looking through the list saying, "Hey, I've seen that one!" Because ff.net is so finicky about posting url's, replace the +'s with periods and the *'s with backslashes to get the link to work.  
(www+namenerds+com*uucn*categories*mu+html)  
Also: (www+namenerds+com*uucn*categories*mc+html) and (www+namenerds+com*uucn*categories*me+html)

Here is a site that lists the most common names (and even a record of British surnames) from roughly the correct time period:  
(www+panix+com*~mittle*names*engPost1600+shtml)

This took around five minutes to look up. Research doesn't hurt - it just stings a little. ;)


	3. Epilogue

Disclaimer: I guess I own Agnes, the imaginary violinists, Bernard, the late Mr. Ogle, the rat, Ralph, and Mr. Ricubye's shop and alley. I also own Mackenzie, Opalescent Pearl, Cockcrow, Magpie, Cassidy, Sage, and Autumn. Unfortunately. If you want to use any of them… well, I'd be very confused. But e-mail me, all the same. 

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**Epilogue**

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The alleys of Tortuga aren't considered the most hospitable place to spend the night; they _are_ considered a decent enough place to dump a body. That some consider the island of Tortuga a welcoming stop is misleading. First, they'd be hanged if they were caught anywhere else. Second, Tortuga is a town of negotiability. For the right price, a person can get just about everything. 

For three young ladies who were lying unconscious in the dank, slime-encrusted alley, without any money, it wasn't likely to be a pleasant stay. 

A large rat scurried over the dirty ground, towards the three girls, sniffing at one's face. Her nose twitched as the whiskers brushed against her cheek. The rat backed up a few inches. Most of the bodies in the alley didn't move, not without the help of Bernard. Bernard was a big fellow, whose hobbies included 'clubbing', and that wasn't the dancing kind. He stopped by the alley two or three times a week. Tortuga required a special breed of janitor, and Bernard was it. 

It had been a busy night for Bernard; there'd been a fight at the Faithful Bride. The fight wasn't serious, but it had been loud enough to sponge out the noise of a smuggler in the back alley knocking off his partner. After the commotion died down, the smuggler found Bernard loafing about near Sally's, and kindly informed him that he had a customer waiting behind the tavern. 

Off he went, picking up the late Mr. Ogle, taking him to one of his dumping alleys. Simon, whose job it was to finish Bernard's temporary cleanup, should have cleaned out the one by Mr. Ricubye's shop by then. It came as quite a shock for Bernard to find that it was occupied. 

Bernard's mind wasn't particularly fast. Shock could take several minutes to kick in. He dumped the late Mr. Ogle's body near the three girls. He was halfway down the block before the signals from his brain finally got through. "Wait a minute," he said, very slowly. Lumbering back, he peered down the dark alley. Sure enough, there were three unconscious ladies. 

All of them were wearing trousers; made from what looked to be a very coarse, blue material. Their blouses were, for the most part, rather revealing. They made Bernard think of the girls who worked at Miss Sally's house, though as Bernard was extremely non-judgmental, that thought carried no negative connotations with it. 

"What're you doing in Mr. Ricubye's alley, then?" boomed Bernard. 

They stirred, woken by Bernard's loud voice. "Just five more minutes…" one of them said, before rubbing her eyes. She looked in front of her, then at the slimy ground, then at the two other girls, then at Bernard, and finally, at the late Mr. Ogle. 

She screamed. 

The other two jolted up, startled. The looked first at each other, then the screaming girl, then the alley, then Bernard, and then the late Mr. Ogle. They screamed, too. 

"Hey! Hey now! None of that!" yelled Bernard. They all stopped, lower lips trembling, as they stared at him. "Now what're you doing in Mr. Ricubye's alley?" he asked again. 

The girl farthest away from the late Mr. Ogle spoke first, "What have you done to us, you… you-" she said. 

"You extremely ugly giant guy!" finished the girl next to her. Forgetting where they were, the first girl high-fived the second. 

"Great one, Autumn!" said the first one. 

"Nah, you set me up, dog! It was all you, Sage!" replied the second. Bernard tried to figure out what a season and a seasoning had to do with anything, but thought the better of it. They were probably insane. 

The third girl raised her hand, hesitantly. "Umm… who are you people?" she asked. 

The first one turned to the third and said, "I'm Sage, and this freak is Autumn." 

"Hey! Beotch!" Autumn replied, smacking Sage on the arm. Then she turned to the third girl. "Who the hell are you?" 

The third one swallowed nervously. "I'm Cassidy," she told them. Looking around, she added, "I always felt I didn't belong where I was, but I never imagined something like _this_ would happen!" 

"Well you don't belong in Mr. Ricubye's alley! You ain't dead!" cried Bernard, who was getting very confused. All three stared blankly at Bernard. "Get out of Mr. Ricubye's alley!" he yelled. 

They didn't move. 

The rat crept up next to the late Mr. Ogle, sniffing at his face. 'This one was right,' it thought, 'it isn't making noise and moving.' The rat squeaked with happiness. It didn't like change. Change led to traps, it'd heard. 

Ever so slowly, Autumn, Sage, and Cassidy turned toward the 'squeak'. The rat stared back, standing on it's back legs, whisker's twitching. 

Bernard was knocked to the ground by the force of three young teenagers sprinting out of the alley. 

The rat rubbed it's nose with it's paws. 

"I know what you mean," said Bernard. "I like Mr. Ogle better, too." 

-^-^-^- 

"This is soo your fault, Autumn!" yelled Sage, as they ran. 

"God, it was so hideous! With the whiskers and the _twitching_-" said Autumn. 

Cassidy was right behind them. When a man walked out from behind the street corner, none of them had enough room or time to stop. They plowed into him, all tumbling to the ground. 

"Aw man! More crap! These were new jeans, too!" Sage complained. 

The man rubbed the back of his neck, wincing, trying to dull the pain from where he'd been hit. 

Cassidy stared up at him, a dreamy look in her eyes. "Who're you?" she asked, sounding vaguely sedated.

The ringing in his ears died down, and he blinked to clear his vision. People running in Tortuga was hardly unusual, but most tried to avoid accidentally knocking others to the ground. Like most things in Tortuga, that could be considered a killing offense. Pirates can be very moody. Slowly rising to his feet, he brushed off some grime staining the blue fabric of his jacket, and looked toward his attackers. Their looked odd, but he didn't expect much normality to seep into Tortuga; too many other things were busy seeping in. Turning to Cassidy, he said "I am Commodore Norrington of the British Navy. And who might you be?" 

"Well I _might_ be J. Lo, but I'm not," joked Autumn. Sage and Autumn giggled. Norrington stared blankly. 

"Yeah, and what's up with the white hair, grandpa?" asked Autumn. 

Norrington paused before responding; the women were far below his station, but he would try to hold his temper. "It's a wig," he told them. 

The two friends giggled. "Why're you wearing a white wig?" Sage asked, mocking him. 

"Why do you have a metal stud shoved through your nose?" he countered, raising an eyebrow. Holding his temper be damned, he didn't have time for them. _Why_ he didn't have time for them was a bit foggy at the moment.

Cassidy smiled sweetly. "That's Sage, and that's Autumn. I'm Cassidy," she told him. Gesturing to the streets around her, she asked, "Where is this place? It's so foreign." 

"This is Tortuga," he told them. They stared blankly. "The den of sin and piracy?" he added. 

Their eyes lit up at the word 'piracy'. "Man, I could so _totally_ be a pirate! Arg!" said Autumn. 

"Awesome!" cried Sage. "I'll make you walk my plank, matey! Arg! Pirates are so wicked!" 

As usual, Cassidy's response was somewhat different. "I've always dreamed of meeting a pirate. My humdrum, middle-class, fairly privileged life has led me here, I just know it. Of course, I've also dreamed of being a fairy princess, a lion tamer, a witch, a ballerina, an ice skater, and a trucker, but that's not important right now! What's important are _pirates_…" 

There was a pause. "A trucker?" asked Sage. 

"I was seven-," responded Cassidy. 

The Commdore, less than pleased with their reaction, interrupted them. "If you'll excuse me ladies, I really must be going." He started walking away. 

"Hey, where are you going?" yelled Sage. 

Norrington stopped, trying to remember. "I believe I was going to kill William Turner and Jack Sparrow," he told them. He looked puzzled. "I can't for the life of me remember why…" 

Autumn stood, putting her hands on her hips. This took a moment, as Autumn wanted to avoid putting her hands where the gunk from the streets had stained her jeans. "You can't leave until you show us a pirate, got it?" she demanded. 

Gritting his teeth, Norrington turned left towards the entrance to another alley. There was a shadowy figure, barely visible, lurking in the darkness. Grabbing the figure's collar, Norrington dragged the man towards the three girls. 

"This is a pirate. Now, if you'll excuse me ladies," he said, turning to leave. 

That wouldn't do at all. Sage ran up to him, grabbing his arm. "That is _not_ a pirate!" she yelled. 

The grizzled old man watched them through his one good eye. "Excuse me, sir- I'm sorry, what is your name?" Norrington asked, frustrated but politely. 

"I be called Ralph," said the old man, grinning with yellowing and blackened teeth. Several were missing. 

"And might your profession be piracy?" Norrington asked. Ralph warily eyed Norrington's uniform, his head cocking to the side with a slight nervous tick. "Off the record," he added. 

Nodding thoughtfully, Ralph said, "Off the record then, aye, I be a pirate. Near on forty-five years, now." Smiling proudly, he added, "Started when I was fifteen, I did." The flies buzzing around him were quite loud. 

Autumn whimpered. "But… but-" 

"He smells like urine! And has he ever taken a bath?" screeched Sage. 

"He's not dashing at all! Or a romantic rogue!" whined Cassidy. 

"That may be, but he is a pirate. Now, I really must be going," Norrington told them. 

Cassidy ran after him. "Where are you going to?" she asked, trying to keep up with his brisk pace. 

Norrington paused, answering, "To a tavern called the Faithful Bride, hopefully to get some answers. It's not a place for young ladies like yo-" he started, before looking over the three teenagers. "Then again, maybe it is." 

Autumn whispered to Sage: "Was that an insult?" 

Sage replied, "Not sure." Louder, she said, "Well, we're coming with you." 

Fighting back a headache, Norrington sighed. "I thought you'd say that…"

Ralph sniffed his armpit and shrugged, walking back to his alley. 

-^-^-^- 

As Norrington, Cassidy, Sage, and Autumn entered, the Faithful Bride was filled with loud, off-key singing. The soul of manners and politeness, Sage grabbed a barmaid's arm as she passed by. 

Agnes tried to keep the drinks from spilling, glaring at the young lady. 

"Hey you, what's up with the craptastic singing?" she asked, not letting go of Agnes's arm. 

Agnes tried to smile sweetly. It wasn't working; the angry glint in her eyes spoiled it. "That'd be three of our customers. They're singing," she told Sage. 

"Yeah, but they suck!" said Autumn. "They sound like they're drunk!" 

"This is a tavern, and we serve rum. Yes, they'd be drunk," she said flatly. 

Norrington cleared his throat to get Agnes' attention. "You wouldn't happen to have seen a blacksmith named William Turner or the pirate Captain Jack Sparrow here, would you?" he asked. "They're friends of mine that I need to have a word with." 

There was a pause as Agnes eyed the uniform. "Friends, you say? With a pirate?" Norrington nodded. A look of extreme displeasure crossing his face when Cassidy whimpered delightedly, having seen a real peg legged sailor. The whimper stopped being delighted when the pirate's ragged trousers snagged a table, letting Cassidy see the real leg it connected to. 

Agnes sighed, recognizing the impatient flash in the Commodore's eye. "They'd be two a the ones singing out there. The other's a lass, very pretty too. Dressed real fine," she told him. 

"Wait, this is a pirate Captain?" asked Cassidy, hoping it was true. Agnes nodded. "We have to meet him! Don't you see my whole life has been leading up to this!?" she cried, clutching Norrington's arm again. 

Sage had been peering over Agnes's shoulder during the conversation, and finally caught a glimpse of the singers. The girl was obviously a tramp and a hussy. She was pretty, and she was standing too close to the man with the short brown hair. Both were unforgivable offenses. There was the third singer, with long hair that had beads in it, but Sage didn't pay much attention to him. 

She felt a connection to the young man. A change in the atmosphere… 

A voice that wasn't there broke into her reverie. "Hey, nows you don't get to push us around eenymore, see? You want music, play it yerselves, right? Now piss off!" yelled a drunken, imaginary violinist. 

"They've been like that for near on an hour," said Agnes, casually. "On a different subject, could I have me arm back?" she asked Sage. "I need to bring 'em more rum." 

Cassidy was confused. "Why would they need _more_ rum? They look like they've had enough." 

"Look, I do what I was told. They tell me, 'Agnes, we needs you to keep bringing us rum till we forget our names.' I ask them, 'Why's that?' They say, 'Cause we can't stop being us if there ain't an us to be.' So I bring 'em the rum. And I'm bringing it now," Agnes told them. 

Norrington, who'd just spent several days sailing to Tortuga where he didn't need to go, to kill Will and Jack who he didn't want to kill, after a brief affair with Elizabeth where they both acted like asses, was just desperate enough that the idea sounded good. "Could you do the same for me, Miss?" he asked, a dangerous edge to his voice. 

"No need calling me 'Miss". Makes me head swell. It's Agnes, as it is to everyone else," she told him, playfully swatting at his arm with her free hand. "And it won't be a problem. At least, so long as you pay come morning," she told him. Norrington nodded briskly. Agnes turned to Sage. "Now, can I be having my arm back?" she asked again. 

"What? Oh, fine," she said, releasing Agnes's arm. "Probably got cooties from the old crone," she muttered. 

"Your mum never taught you manners, did she?" Agnes asked, very sweetly. Too sweetly. 

"No, she didn't," Sage snapped. Agnes's grin grew. 

Agnes put the drinks down on a nearby table. Sage stared after her, confused. She walked back, still holding the tray. 

"It's a small world, it is," Agnes told her. "Neither did mine!" With that, Agnes brought the tray down hard on Sage's head. The teenager slumped over, unconscious. She smiled that same, sweet smile at Cassidy and Autumn. "Were you about to say something?" she asked. 

"No," they whimpered. 

"Good," Agnes grinned. "Now, I'll be getting you yer rum just as soon as I bring this over to the other three," she told Norrington. He stepped quickly to one side, avoiding Cassidy's crushing grip. 

Through clenched teeth, he replied, "I'll come with you, if that's quite all right." They walked off towards the back of the Faithful Bride. Agnes still tried to saunter. It still didn't work. 

That left Autumn and Cassidy alone in the tavern. They looked around nervously. Without Norrington, Cassidy was afraid. Without Sage, Autumn had no backbone. For the second time that evening, the dangerous reality of the situation became clear to them. 

Luckily, it only lasted a moment. 

"Hey, who's that?" Autumn asked, pointing excitedly to the three revelers. Cassidy stood on her toes to see beyond a massive sailor that was waving his hand of cards wildly in the air. 

"Which one?" she asked. "The girl or the young guy?" 

"The third guy! The one with all the kohl!" she shrieked. 

The sailor finally moved his four kings out of the way, allowing Cassidy to see where Autumn was pointing. They both started drooling. So did the sailor, but that was because he'd gotten his head bashed by his friend who, oddly enough, also had two kings. 

"Oh, he's so dreamy!" Cassidy crooned, watching the staggering Sparrow as he tripped into a whore's considerable cleavage. "I think I'm in love." 

Autumn took the simpler approach: "Man, he's so _hot_!" 

As if floating on a cloud, Cassidy moved toward him. "Oh, this is love at first sight. It must be! I always knew I wasn't meant for my world; I was meant for him! My heart cries out and-" 

"And you can bloody well keep your heart to yourself, you harlot!" screeched Mackenzie. With eyes only for Jack, she hadn't noticed the four women sitting at a table: a lady, a sailor, a pirate, and a woman of possibly ill repute. All of them were panting with rage. 

Autumn watched as the four women tackled Cassidy. 'At least they're fighting each other, too,' she thought, shrugging. 

Weaving her way through the crowds on the _other_ side of the room, Autumn too made her way toward Captain Sparrow. She ducked, narrowly missing a bottle that'd been flung by Opalescent. Nearing her target, she flung her arms wide and dashed forward. 

"Hey, hottie-" she said. 

Jack was in mid-spin, decking her with the rum bottle clasped in his hand. He swerved a bit, staring at his broken rum bottle sadly. Then he looked down at unconscious Autumn. "Sorry, luv," he slurred, before spinning toward his table, where Norrington was dutifully drinking away. He tried to nod toward where Autumn lay, saying, "Knocked 'er out, Commodore, whaddya say to that? Worth tha bottle?" 

Norrington grinned. "No, but that was fine work, Captain Sparrow," he replied, not yet drunk enough for impeded speech. 

Tilting his head back, Jack yelled, "Agnes! More rum!" 

-^-^-^- 

Another half-hour and much alcohol later, the Faithful Bride was rocked by another drunken refrain of singing. Most of the reprobates in the tavern went on with their business, ignoring the spastic revelry. Norrington watched on, drunkenly trading stories of cruel childhood music instructors with a group of inebriated and invisible violinists. 

There, in the middle of the room, Elizabeth, Jack, and William danced a rather sloppy jig, locking arms and spinning wildly. 

Together they roared, "Drink up me hearties, yo ho!" 

Opalescent Pearl, Cockcrow, Magpie, Mackenzie, Autumn, Sage, and Cassidy winced from their respective headaches, nursed their respective drinks, and wished the three would, respectively, shut the hell up. 

-^-^-^-^-^-

**The End**

-^-^-^-^-^-

_A/N: _ This is dedicated to anyone who had to sit through a story with:

-A tragic hooker with a heart of gold who has more manners than a duchess and more modesty than a Jane Austin heroine  
-A wild pirate Captain who isn't wild or a particularly good leader  
-An upper-class lady who can fight, studies unladylike topics, is wild and impulsive, and manages to get _absolutely no flak from society for it  
-_A young, naive woman who is a sailor on a pirate ship; there are so many things wrong with this setup... so many...  
-Two wild and crazy friends who get sucked into the film, only to crack lame jokes and mock characters a helluva lot more interesting than two obsessive fangirls  
-A young self-insert who never felt at home in the world she lived in, as opposed to everyone else in this world who is completely content with their circumstances, and gets sucked into the film as part of her "destiny"  
-Any story with an odd character name like Raven, Crystal (Diamond, Sapphire, etc), Aurora and others that fails to explain why they have such a funky name. I don't care if the writer thought it sounded cool - there were no hippies in the 17th century. If someone had a really weird name, there'd be a really weird reason behind it.  
-Any non-SI characters with modern names  
-Characters using BS facts as key plot points (Google is your friend! Your friend, damn it!)  
-A new pirate ship named the Black fill in blank

And of course:

-Wildly OOC portrayals of the main cast to make the avatar/OC/SI/MarySue look good

Have a nice day. :)


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